


half-fashioned creatures

by fear_of_being_bitten



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Jewish, Angst, Attempted non-con by soldiers that is stopped, Ben Solo is a monster, Dark, Devoted Reylo, Devotion, Exhibitionism, F/M, Flu Fic, Fragile Love, Golems, Loneliness, Loyalty, Magical Realism, Masturbation, PLEASE READ TAGS, Protectiveness, Religious Persecution, Sad, Sad Ending, Self-Sacrifice, Shtetl in Russia, Taboo, Tragic Romance, fictional Jewish culture, gloomy, religious repression, tags will update, weird tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2019-10-28 19:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17793308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fear_of_being_bitten/pseuds/fear_of_being_bitten
Summary: Raechel’s heart is pure, but her mind is a hungry flame.  An orphan and an afterthought, the supreme leader of the Shtetl took her in as a charity.  Rey sleeps above the Rabbi's barn and dreams of what lies beyond the stars and of a future where she belongs.Word comes that the Russian army is approaching.  One night she follows the Rabbi down to the river and watches in horror as he breathes life to a monster.  “Ben shelí,” Rabbi says with dark smile.  “My son.”When Rey catches the creature watching her bathe, a spark ignites in her dark world.  She knows he isn't a man, but his obsidian eyes make her feel seen for the first time.  As they kindle a fragile flame, Rey seeks to protect her protector and fight against the forces threatening their lives.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: This is pure fiction and should NOT be taken as an accurate representation of Jewish culture or religion. The story utilizes certain elements of Jewish life in 1800s Russia and Poland, including persecution by the Czar, but it's magical reality. My family has a connection to these events, including relatives who fled Russia, and I wanted to pay this era attention and respect. However, it's a monster story and isn't true. 
> 
> It's an angsty tale of lonely creatures finding each other. It will have a sad ending, please READ THE TAGS and prepare your hearts!!! 
> 
> I wrote this while I had the flu, which may explain it. With all that said, thank you for giving it a shot, brave souls! 
> 
> Read more about golems here: https://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/the-golem  
> Read more about Shtetls here: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shtetl

“Every universe, our own included, begins in conversation.  Every golem in the history of the world, from Rabbi Hanina's delectable goat to the river-clay Frankenstein of Rabbi Judah Loew ben Bezalel, was summoned into existence through language, through murmuring, recital, and kabbalistic chitchat– was, literally, talked into life.”

― Michael Chabon, _The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay    _

 

“We are fashioned creatures, but half made up.”

― Mary Shelley, _Frankenstein_

 

____

 

The Rabbi is father.  The Rabbi is wise.

Fathers are wise, it is taught.

 

Each night the people of the Shtetl whisper their hopes and fears to the God whose true name they may not sully in their mouths.  They press foreheads to the earth and thank _The Name_ in His infinite wisdom for giving them the Rabbi.  

 

He’s an old man now, but the years have not made the Rabbi soft.  Time has weathered away his weaknesses, like water running over stone.  Rabbi’s shrewd blue eyes are cold as ice, his thin lips quick to issue judgment.  No one dares displease the supreme leader of the small Shtetl by the river.

 

Each day except for the Sabbath, the favored young men come to his home.  Handpicked for their devotion and intellect, they gather at his feet as he bestows upon them the law.  The women tend to the daily life; cooking and cleaning, minding the children and animals, keeping the Shtetl alive as the men follow their higher pursuits.

 

Everything is ordained and as it should be.  Everything fits, except for Raechel.

 

A girl of seventeen, plain but with brilliant eyes, Raechel was orphaned young.  The Rabbi feeds and shelters her as a _tzedaka,_ a charity, to ensure his name will be written again in the book of life.  His housekeeper, Mazheh, took pity and raised Raechel as an extra set of hands.  She’s a tool, forgotten when not in use.

 

Raechel’s heart is pure, but her mind is a hungry flame.  As the Rabbi gives his lessons, she kneels close by to sweep up crumbs of knowledge along with the dust.  She scavenges what she can to survive.

 

After her work is done, Raechel heads to the barn to sleep.  She crawls into the loft and makes a bed between hay bales. On very cold nights, Mazheh lets her sleep on the kitchen floor in front of the hearth.  It is not so bad.

 

Raechel gazes at the stars outside the small window, loneliness settling deep in her chest.  She imagines having her own home and family one day. She wonders what it will feel like to belong.

 

On the nights she is desperate to sleep, Raechel imagines the edge of the sky.  What lies beyond it?  What container is vast enough to hold all the stars in the sky?  And what container is even larger, to hold that one? Her mind knots at the question as it pushes past infinite edges of edges.  

 

She finally falls asleep and dreams of other worlds in galaxies far, far away.  She dreams of new kinds of life on worlds she’s never even heard of.

 

She wonders if they are happy.   

 

____

 

Men from another town bring troubling news.  Imperial soldiers are moving closer, sent by the Czar in the wake of riots in Kiev, Warsaw and Odessa.  Jews are being blasphemed. It is a dangerous time.

 

There are hushed voices in the parlor, worried faces and brows, and Raechel cannot make out the words.  She dusts just outside the door and strains to listen.

 

“Rey, child, go bring the men more water.  They must be thirsty from all the talking,” Mazheh calls out from the kitchen as she cuts the chicken for the soup.

 

“Yes, Maz,” Raechel answers.  She dutifully fills the pitcher from the well outside and walks through the parlor quietly, eyes downcast, to serve the men.

 

“How many?” Rabbi asks.  As she fills his glass, her eyes land on his bald head.  It’s covered only by a large yarmulke, oversized because he has no hair to secure it.  There are scars and moles on the pale flesh which is white like the underbelly of a fish.  She restrains a shudder and averts her eyes.

 

“About one hundred men.  They’ve already gone through two Shtetl downstream, now moving up the river.  Yours is next, in a week or so.”

 

She floats through the room quiet as a ghost and just as invisible.   

 

“Has there been violence?”  Rabbi’s voice lowers to a simmer.  Rey’s skin prickles in warning.

 

“Rumors.  Several men taken, and some girls were . . .”  Rachel looks up and the young man who is speaking stops, his eyes flickering to her face and away.  

 

He looks down and clears his throat.  “There have been reported incidents.”

 

She tiptoes out of the room and back to the kitchen as her pulse throbs.  Russian soldiers are coming to their small village.  What could it mean?

 

____

 

It’s late at night when the squeal of the barn door jars her awake.  Her eyes adjust to a faint orange glow beneath her.

 

She hears rhythmic, deep chanting.  It’s the Rabbi. Rolling over, Rey eases forward quietly and curls her fingers over the edge of the loft to peek down.

 

He’s wearing his prayer shawl and yarmulke.  She watches him in the swinging light of the lantern walk to the back wall to pick up a shovel and loop a bucket over his arm.  He turns to leave, still muttering supplications.

 

Raechel touches her face to make sure she’s not dreaming.  The flame in her mind flickers to life.

 

After the barn creaks closed, she races to wrap her wool blanket over her shoulders and step into her boots.  By the time she’s down the ladder and outside, he’s already yards ahead following the trail down to the river.

 

Rey ducks down and follows.  She weaves between tall grasses as her breath fogs in the cold air.  The only sounds are the wind and insects calling to each other in the darkness.  Instinct tells her to stay hidden, that what he is doing is private.

 

He stops at the river’s edge.  Rey crouches behind a tree and digs fingertips into the dirt.  She watches as he scoops water into the bucket and pours it onto the muddy bank.  Then the Rabbi begins shoveling.

 

The work looks arduous, painful even.  His tall, thin frame stoops over with each shovel swing.  He’s not digging a hole, but making a pile. Her eyebrows crease.

 

The Rabbi stops suddenly and drops to his knees.  Her confusion deepens as he digs both hands into the wet mud.

 

The moon slides out from the clouds as Rey watches the Rabbi form the shape of a man.  Tall, taller even than the Rabbi who is tall, and broad. He carves swells of muscle into the clay behemoth, separates out fingers and toes.  

 

When he reaches between it’s thighs, Rey turns her eyes away nervously.  The curiosity burns. She steals a glance while her cheeks flush.

 

The Rabbi finally finishes and rests on his heels.  He returns to river to cleanse himself, walking in to the waist.  He returns dripping and replaces the prayer shawl on his trembling shoulders.

 

His voice lifts up on the wind as he circles the figure slowly seven times.  Rey can make out only pieces of chanted prayers.

 

_My light form, unformed like Adam . . ._

_Molded to do your will . . ._

_Breath of life, grant protection . . ._

_The name of truth . . ._

 

The Rabbi leans over and with a long finger traces shapes into the figure’s forehead.  Rey cannot see what they are.

 

He finally stands back and grows silent.  Her heart begins to pound and breath quickens but she doesn’t know why.  Anticipation rises like steam.

 

A deep groan breaks through the night.  

 

The mud figure stirs and rises before her terrified eyes.  A hand flies to catch her sob, tears falling from both fear and awe.

 

 _“Ben shelí,”_ Rabbi says with dark smile.  “My son.”

 

The figure stands still before him.  Rey is frozen, too, blinking through tears.  The Rabbi turns and stoops down at the water’s edge, looking for something.

 

He returns with two shiny black river stones and places them where the eyes should be.  Satisfied, he stands back.

 

“You will protect the Shtetl from those who would do us harm.”

 

The clay behemoth stands silent.

 

“You will remain loyal to the word and to the truth, _emet,_ always.”  The Rabbi presses his index finger to the creatures forehead as he speaks the Hebrew word for truth.

 

The figure slowly nods once.

 

The moon reflects off its smooth, wet skin.  It’s a crude caricature of a man, alien and strange.  Sharp fear leaks down and gathers in Rey’s stomach as it churns.  The Rabbi hands the creature the shovel and bucket.

 

“You will follow.”

 

Rey ducks and hides her face in her hands as they pass.  She watches them disappear behind the barn. Rey hugs her knees to her chest and stares up at the bright stars in the sky.  After the tears finally stop, she returns to bed.

 

____

 

Rey waits for the Rabbi to say something to the Shtetl the next day.  He doesn’t.

 

She watches him cautiously.  He’s subdued, irritable, but moves about his day as if nothing has happened.  His icy blue eyes are half-lidded as he cradles his bony chin in his hand, yawning through his morning lessons.  

 

She begins to wonder if it was all a dream after all.  

 

After finishing her chores, Rey returns to the barn with a bucket of warm water, lost in thought.  She latches it, then walks near her ladder as the sun sets. Rey undresses down to her linen slip and hangs her dress and stockings on the rungs.  Kneeling on the dirt floor, she dips in a rag and begins to scrub her arms quickly, humming as she works. She moves to her chest, then her neck, then stands to lift up the hem of her skirt and wash between her legs.

 

A deep groan emits from the dark corner of the barn.  Rey freezes, her spine snapping rigid. The slip falls from her fingers as she turns her head slowly.

 

Two piercing obsidian eyes glimmer in the dark.  With another groan, the Rabbi’s creature takes two steps forward out of the shadows.

 

Rey shrieks and jumps back.  She clutches the rag to her chest with shaking hands, heart flailing like a bird caught in a net.  It moves closer, each heavy footfall rattling her bones. The creature takes slow stilted steps until it’s standing in the pool of light from her lamp.

 

Each breath burns in her chest.  Her eyes drop to its large clay feet.  She waits for a blow to fall. When it doesn’t, she dares to lift her chin.

 

The face approximates a man as if made by a child.  The chin is defined, nose prominent, and the high cheekbones and smooth planes are the essence of masculinity condensed.  It’s a strong face with two shining dark eyes, unseeing and dead, yet somehow alive.

 

Rey’s tongue is caught.  This is impossible, an abomination, a monster.  Yet the Rabbi gave it the breath of life.  She presses her eyelids closed. Her mind wrestles to find reason as she remembers the Rabbi’s words by the river.

 

When she opens her eyes and looks up, the creature has tilted its head at her like a bird.  She trembles but finds her voice.

 

“You–You must protect me,” she says, wavering but clear.

 

The creature is silent.

 

“The Rabbi said.  You must keep the people safe.”

 

It slowly nods once.  The face is devoid of expression.  The fading light plays shadow tricks, adding the appearance of nuance and change where there is none.  Does it seem slightly sad? Is it listening?

 

The creature doesn’t move and neither does Rey.  The longer they stare at each other, the more tension uncoils from her chest.

 

“I’m Raechel,” she says, lifting her chin.

 

Silence.  Perhaps it cannot speak.

 

“But Maz calls me Rey, maybe that’s easier to say?”

 

No response.  She studies it, the vast shoulders and thick arms.  Tiny cracks like cobwebs form as it dries. It almost looks like a true man could exist under the crude clay shell.

 

“I sleep in the loft, upstairs.”

 

No response.  Rey sighs, fear fading in reaction to the creature’s apathy.

 

“Well, I will not bother you if you do not bother me.”

 

She looks down at the rag in her hands, twisted tight like a strand of dough.

 

“I’m going to finish washing now.”

 

When the creature still doesn’t respond, she takes her bucket across the room away from it.  Rey turns her back to continue washing her legs in the lukewarm water.

 

She throws a glance over her shoulder.  The creature has turned to watch her. She can almost feel it’s dead eyes on her as she makes quick work of it, washing away the goosebumps.

 

Rey dumps the water outside and climbs quickly up the ladder to her bed.  Could the creature climb?  She thinks not, it’s too clumsy.  She strips her slip off and and hangs it to dry and pulls on her nightdress quickly.  Curling under the blanket, she pulls it tight to her chin as her heartbeat pounds.

 

The hinges of the barn door squeak as it opens and Rey turns in time to see the creature walk out into the darkness.  She falls asleep before it returns.

 

____

 

Rey wakes with the sun, dressing quickly in the brisk air.  She climbs down from the loft and smooths her dress before pausing.

 

She turns to the dark corner and quietly walks back.  

 

At first she thinks it’s empty and the monster has gone.  She bobs her head to look through farm equipment and tools hanging from hooks until she spies it finally.  It’s standing facing the wall, blended into the fading wood of the barn wall. It doesn’t move and she doesn’t speak.  Perhaps it sleeps during the day.

 

Rey leaves quickly to head to Maz in the kitchen.

 

Her day goes as usual.  The Rabbi is less tense, although the Shtetl is abuzz with the news the Russian army is only days away now.  A delegation is formed to discuss “matters of safety” with the officers in the parlor. The worry is contagious.

 

“Doubt is non-belief,” Maz says confidently while rolling out dough for knish.  “We must trust in the Rabbi, he knows what’s best.”

 

Rey wishes she had such a strong faith.  She is not certain.

 

She completes her chores in a rush, mind taken over by the creature as her hands work.  

 

Will it still be there tonight?  

Will it watch her again?  

 

The fear that buzzes through her senses settles into something deeper.  Curiosity, certainly, and excitement. Yet another darker, dangerous feeling that is unfamiliar.

 

Rey brings her pail of warm water to the barn at sundown.  She turns her back to the dark corner and undresses. She bends over to soak the rag and hears the groan.  This time she doesn’t turn when she hears heavy footsteps behind her.

 

Her scalp prickles and the feeling spreads like a stain under her skin.  She pretends to ignore it as she washes her arms and neck, then lowers the rag to her chest.  She hesitates, but then peels down the straps of her slip to wash her breasts.

 

Her body is meant only for her husband, it’s taboo to be seen by other men.  But the creature is not a man.  Only dead eyes watch her, but it still feels dangerous.  Every brush of the rag causes a ripple of sensation.  Her skin tightens and her nipples point and ache in the cool night air.

 

It cannot be a sin if no one watches her, but it feels like one.  It feels good. 

 

Rey lifts up the hem of her slip.  The tightness and electricity has seeped down and gathered between her thighs.  She cups the rag to her mound and sparks ignite at her touch. She inhales sharply, not looking at the creature.  It’s a new and scary feeling that she doesn’t understand. It’s never felt like this before. She rubs and her hips move with her hand.  She hears a sound behind her and her shyness falls like a veil, snapping her out of the moment. She finishes washing quickly.

 

When she’s done, and Rey lifts the pail to toss the water, the creature moves to block her path.  It lifts an arm, palm raised.  She looks at the crude, half-formed fingers.

 

“What?” she asks, fear tightening her throat.  It holds the hand steady.  She looks at the bucket, realization dawning.  “Do you want the water?”

 

It slowly nods once.

 

It strikes her as funny.  A teasing smile jumps to her lips.  “You want a bath, too?”

 

It nods again.  She stares at the surface of the monster, surprised, and sees that deeper fissures have formed during the day.  Perhaps it’s uncomfortable.

 

She wonders if a monster could hurt.  

 

Rey sets down the pail on the dirt floor and finds a small cup.  She scoops up water and approaches it slowly.  Looking at its face, she tentatively dribbles some down from shoulder to wrist.

 

The water runs onto the floor, but some soaks in.  The surface takes on a glossy, dark sheen again.  She glances up, lifting her brows.

 

“Like that?” she asks softly.  It nods.

 

Rey begins pouring small cupfuls around the creature, soaking it’s skin.  She stands on a stool to reach it’s head as it bows down for her.  Droplets of water course down it’s chest as gravity takes it down to thick thighs.  He’s slick and shiny again, a proper mud man.  His wet, dark eyes track her movement.

 

Is he grateful?  Is he happy?  She can read anything she wants into his face.

 

“Was that good?” she asks.

 

He nods once.  The glow of the lantern warms his complexion, softening even the black eyes.  

 

“Do you have a name?”  she asks. “What can I call you?”

 

He just stares.

 

She goes up on tiptoes to read the etching in his forehead.

 

 _“Aleph, Mem, Tav,”_ she reads the Hebrew letters aloud.  She can barely read written Hebrew, but this she can decipher.  “Truth. That’s not the name of a person.  You need a real name.”

 

Rey frowns and thinks.  “Rabbi called you his son, _ben sheli,_ “ she remembers, and brightens.  “Benjamin. I’ll call you Ben.”

 

Benjamin was Rachel’s son in the Bible.  It's a common Jewish name for the last-born son.  She doesn’t mention that Rachel died after giving birth to him, or that his first name _Benoni_ meant “son of my pain.”

 

“Do you like it?”

 

The figure nods.

 

“Ben.”  Rey smiles and turns to climb up her ladder.  “Goodnight, Ben.”

 

After she dresses she rolls on her side to watch him leave.  She moves to the window to look. Past the houses, in the fields near the river, she sees a lone shadow walking.  A sentinel.

 

Rey tries to sleep.  She imagines her future, just the shape of it.  A husband to look after, a handsome man who is tall and strong, with pale skin and thick black hair.  She can almost see his dark, brown eyes and feel them pierce her heart.  

 

She wants to touch him, feel warm muscle wrap around her, taste his sharp cheekbones.  Her breath slows as she drifts to sleep, heart yearning for someone to call hers. 

 

____

 

Days pass.  They fall into a routine.

 

Ben wakes when she comes into the barn at night.  Rey speaks as if he is listening.  She tells him the small details of her day.  How funny it is when Maz curses over the burnt crust of a pie.  How cute the baby coats are in the pasture when they kick their heels and run for their supper.  Her confusion at the lessons the Rabbi teaches and that they seem to contradict each other.  Tiny details that are too small for anyone but her to notice.  

 

Rey tells him how her loneliness is like a deep aching pit.  How heavy it feels when she wakes, and how hollow.  She tells him how one day no one spoke to her at all, as if she wasn’t even there.  How it made her feel like she wasn’t real herself.

 

The words spill out like water from the well pump.  Stored-up words she didn’t know she had.  Rey speaks as one would to a beloved pet, a creature unable to spill your secrets.  She moves closer.

 

Each night she bathes herself and afterwards him.  He walks the perimeter and stands sentinel on the Shtetl.  Ben protects the people.

 

One day, Rey skips to the kitchen get the warm water.  Her excitement buzzes to life and a tightness forms at the thought of Ben.  A sudden revelation stops her mid-stride on her way to the barn.

 

She likes it.  She likes him listening to her, but she likes him watching her.  She likes him watching her body.

 

Rey looked around furtively, as if someone could see the sin in her mind.  A woman should not feel this way.  A woman’s body is made only for her husband, it is law.  Ben is not a man, he’s not even alive.  

 

Could it be wrong, then?  If it isn’t forbidden, is it allowed?

 

Maybe Rey can have one thing for herself.  

 

She steps into the barn, chest knotting but muscles pulled taut with need.  She lowers the pail and looks over her shoulder coyly to see if he’s awake.  When he moves, she begins to undress.  

 

Rey takes her time baring her skin.  She savors the warm water on her skin.  It feels so different when she knows he’s watching.  She hears him move closer behind her.  She thinks he must like it too, like to watch her, and it makes her feel heat all over.  

 

He’s a blank cipher, a silent set of dark eyes that aren’t even eyes, but she feels them on her skin like hot coals.

 

Rey washes her arms and then bites her lip and peels down the top of her slip to wash her breasts.  She takes her time.  She imagines Ben’s eyes are a man’s eyes, maybe the man from her dreams.  The heat from her skin settles between her thighs.

 

She washes and her hand lingers at her slit.  Her breath catches as her fingers slide.  Her fingertips brush against her clit and a spark ignites.  She knows this must be wrong, anything that feels this good must be wrong.  She presses her eyes closed tighter as her fingers slide faster.

 

Rey hears movement as her breath rasps.  His heavy foot falls stop just behind her.  She whimpers and hears a low groan.  Her fingers race at her clit as her center tightens, squeezing on air.  One day a real man will covet her, will watch her like this.  For now it is Ben, a placeholder for a man, but he is all hers.  Rey rocks with her hand and her fingers slip until she finally throws her head back and gasps.

 

She feels a cold hand press into her low back as she climaxes, his solid mass steadying as waves of pleasure crest.  

 

Her eyes blink open and her face grows hot.  She takes a step away from him out of reach. Rey bends over quickly to wash out the rag and busy herself with her washing.  She cannot look at him.  She ignores what happened and the white hot shame.  Her eyes dart over in his direction and his hand is still outstretched to her.  Rey looks down and clears her throat.

 

She pulls up her straps and stands to wash Ben.  His head turns to follow her movements.  Rey raises a cup to his shoulder and pours the water, but before she can draw it back he clamps a hand on her wrist.  His grasp is solid and heavy, but still gentle.

 

For a moment Rey panics.  The cold clay is firm and unrelenting, but doesn’t hurt.  He could crush her bones easily before she could cry out.  Instead he places her hand on his arm and releases her.

 

Rey looks at him, wide-eyed.  “You- You want me to touch you?”

 

He nods slowly.

 

She passes the cup to her other hand and then smoothes the water down his arm.  The clay is slick and slippery, slightly gummy to the touch.  A velvet softness on top of rigid density.  She rubs in the water, smoothing out the cracks.

 

He makes a noise that sounds almost like a moan.  A smile pulls at her lips.  She pours another cup and rubs the water in.  Her hands circle his body, touching every inch, until he leans his head forward and she pours a cup over his face.

 

Rey delicately traces his nose and cheekbones with her fingertips.  She resets his features and closes the fine cracks.  When she reaches up to his forehead he pulls back sharply, out of reach.

 

She stares at him, comprehending.  “Not the words?”

 

He nods.

 

She recalls the ritual, how the Rabbi had circled and carved in the letters.  “They gave you life?”

 

Ben nods again.

 

She nods in response.  “Come closer.”

 

Rey pours the water on his chest and circles her palms.  If only he were warm and made of flesh. Her hands trace down over his firm abdomen.  She holds her breath as she traces them down lower.

 

She touches his manhood and looks down, rapt.  She’s never seen a naked man before and wonders how accurate the representation is.  Firm and long.  She watches her hands grow muddier as she strokes the water down his length.  Her hands look so pale compared to his dark, grey mass, fingers barely wrapping around the girth of it.  She has an idea of where it should go.  She stops herself and steps back as he watches her, then washes her hands off quickly.

 

Rey’s eyes well up with tears as loneliness rips into her.  She’s playing with a doll, like a child.  It reminds her how empty her life really is.  As she cleans her hands, tears slip down her cheeks.

 

She picks up the pail to leave but he blocks her path.  Rey frowns and looks up at him.  Ben reaches out his hand and angles it so his finger catches a teardrop.  He tries to rub into her cheek.

 

Rey swallows a sob.  “It doesn’t that work that way for me,” she whispers.  “Thank you, Ben.”

 

She dumps the water in the garden and wipes her face with her hands.  A trace of clay marks her palm and mixes in with the tears in a dirty smudge.  

 

Rey lies alone in the loft as Ben walks alone in the dark.  

 

____

 

A fog arrives with the Russian army and descends on the Shtetl.  The weather is unseasonably cold and wet. Gloom clings heavy in the air.

 

The Rabbi and a small group of men walk out to meet with the soldiers.  They’re gone for hours.  Maz is nervous, clucking like a hen in the kitchen, baking loaves of challah to keep her hands busy.

 

Rey roams the house and dusts.  She sneaks into the Rabbi’s private office behind a door usually kept locked.  She looks at shelves of books, most so ancient she cannot read the names or the old language.  An open book on his desk catches her eye.

 

On the page is a drawing of a man, a figure like Ben but smaller.  She cannot read the words, but makes out the word golem.  Rey flips the page, and the same figure lays in pieces on the floor, dead.  The man in the illustration is picking up an arm.

 

Rey jerks back and drops the page.  She cannot tell what’s happening because she cannot read the text.  Her eyes scan for any clues.  She notices the man in the illustration removing a piece of paper from the creature’s mouth.

 

Rey leaves the office quickly, taking one sheet of blank paper but leaving everything else as she found it.   

 

____

 

Rey bathes herself.  She makes herself come with her own hand while Ben touches her back.  She begins to bathe him and rub water in with her hands as she tells him of the Russian army.

 

“They have big guns with knives on the end of them,” Rey says.  “They can hurt you if they see you. You must stay hidden.  There are too many of them.”

 

He’s silent, as always, watching her.

 

“You cannot go near them.  You shouldn’t go on watch tonight.”

 

He doesn’t nod.  Rey furrows her brow.  “Benjamin, you cannot let them see you.”

 

Still no response.

 

“You cannot protect the Shtetl if you are cut into tiny pieces!”

 

She stares up at him and he makes a small movement like a shrug.  

 

Rey huffs and stomps over to the piece of paper.  She takes a small piece of charcoal and starts to write in Yiddish in her messy script.

_Born in Truth_

_Benjamin_

_Adonai, shelter this man in the shadow of your wings._

 

She looks at Ben then adds.  

_For he is loved._

 

Rey writes her name and folds the paper into a tidy square.  “Open up,” she says in a firm voice. He doesn’t move. “Open your mouth, Ben,” she repeats, softer, _“please.”_

 

As she stares he works his jaw side to side trying to unhinge it.  It's stuck.  She uses water from the pail to trace his lips with her wet fingertip, unsealing the seam.  She fashions a pair of full lips, generous even if not soft. Finally he groans his mouth open.

 

Rey swallows thickly and looks with wide eyes.  It’s dark inside, and she realizes with a shake of her head she must’ve imagined he was human under all the mud after all.  Foolish, foolish girl.

 

It’s just an empty hole.  She places the paper deep inside and helps him close his lips around it.

 

“I hope this protects you,” she says.  “But you still cannot go near the soldiers.  They won’t understand.  They'll hurt you.”

 

He reaches down and cups her jaw lightly with his palm.  She closes her eyes and for a moment he could be a real man, saying goodbye.  She leans into his touch.  Ben lets go and leaves to fulfill his duty.  

 

Worry pulls at her.  Rey stands alone for a few moments in the silence of the barn as she decides.  She quickly gets dressed again and picks up her lantern, leaving the pail of water where it sits.  

 

Rey heads out into the night to follow him.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay and sorry in advance for this chapter! 
> 
> It was always going to go this way, guys. One potentially hopeful epilogue to follow.
> 
> TW: for graphic violence, attempted non-con (by soldier Hux), and self-sacrifice.
> 
> ____
> 
>  
> 
> If you enjoy sad, beautiful endings with a touch of bite, please enjoy this absolutely stunning work that left me breathless with a siren Rey and empath Ben. A remarkable achievement and one that will stick with me for a long time. "The Pull to the Light"
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447733/chapters/38514536

 

“Did I request thee, Maker, from my clay  
To mould me man? Did I solicit thee  
From darkness to promote me?”

― John Milton, Paradise Lost

 

____

 

It is a starless night.  Clouds cover even the pale face of the moon.  Rey raises the lantern up to follow the rocky path outside the barn to search for Ben.

 

The dark pit of worry sits heavy in her stomach.  What will the Russian Imperial Army do if they see him?  They will only see a monster. They won’t understand, not like she does.

 

Rey follows the trail down to the river.  The Shtetl is dark and still, with only a few remaining candles lit in windows.  The people have said their nightly prayers and have settled into sleep. A donkey brays a lonesome whine that carries on the wind.  Crickets and other insects sing their own lullabies in the otherwise quiet night.

 

She picks her way around rocks and briars to the riverbank and follows the path she has seen Ben take on his vigils.  He has already disappeared up ahead, blending in too well with the night. There are no stars to guide her or to shape his silhouette against the void of the heavens.

 

The river bends.  Up ahead, yards away, she sees the glow from the campfires of the Russian army.  Rey crouches down. She hides her lantern behind her back before dimming it. They are too far away for her to hear much.  A sharp stab of a laugh cuts through the night, then yells. Men slap backs and lift bottles that sparkle with reflected fire until the sound simmers down again.

 

Rey’s considering walking back to the barn when a twig snaps nearby.  Heavy footsteps approach, and she hears men’s voices in Russian, which she barely understands.  Against the backdrop of the fire, she watches two soldiers cut a zig-zag path through the brush to her.  Their heads are bare and the collars of their uniform jackets flap open. The taller, thinner one pushes the smaller one away with a sharp curse, and then laughs as he stumbles forward.

 

Rey freezes like a rabbit smelling a fox and sinks down behind the tall grass that sways with the wind.  She snuffs out the lantern. Her eyes are alert and wide in the dark. Her mouth opens to catch more breath as her chest cinches tight.

 

They move close enough to make out what they’re saying.  

 

“Mitaka, _ oh my Mitashkina, _ such a sweet girl you are . . .”  The voice is slurred in sing-song, but underneath it carries a sharp bite.  The tall one tries to cup the other’s cheek, but his hand is slapped away. 

 

“Stop it, I told you I hate that!”  The smaller man flinches back. 

 

“You’re too serious, Mitaka!  Or too sober.” His laugh is brittle.  

 

Rey wraps her arms around her knees and wills her heartbeat to stay quiet.  They approach the river. 

 

“Hurry up, Armie, it’s dark out here.”  The small one crosses his arms over his chest and rubs his arms.

 

“What are you afraid of, eh?  The scum are all asleep, can’t you see?”  He gestures back to the Shtetl. 

 

“I’m tired.  I want to go back.”

 

“Such a  _ soft girl, _ even now.  Even after everything.”  The tall one walks to the river and opens the fly of his pants.  Rey watches the back of his head, hair as red as the flames of the fire in the distance.  She turns away when he starts to piss into the river so she doesn’t have to see.

 

The sound stops.  When she looks back, he’s turned and is staring at her.  His eyes are as cold and grey as the river itself.

 

“Like what you see, Z _ aika,  _ little rabbit?”

 

Rey startles and scrambles back onto her hands.  She stands up and bends to reach for her lantern.  He walks to her as he closes up his fly. 

 

“No, sir– I’m, I’m–”

 

He cocks his head as he apprises her.  His eyes slide down to her legs as if measuring up a horse.

 

“Are you lost, Zaika?  All alone?”

 

She doesn’t understand everything he’s saying, just pieces, but his eyes tell her what she needs to know.  She’s scared.

 

The smaller man interrupts.  “Armie, we’re not to interact, Commander said–”

 

“Commander isn’t here,” he interrupts harshly.  “He always takes the best ones for himself. Maybe it’s our stroke of luck, for once.” 

 

Rey looks to the smaller man, whose face has gone pale.  The moon slides out from behind a cloud, and she sees the cruel glint in the tall one’s eyes as he licks his lips.  

 

She turns and runs.

 

She only makes it a few yards before a hand grabs the back of her dress and then another her hair.  She screams and drops the lantern and the glass shatters on a rock. Even in her terror, she thinks Rabbi will be upset with her for breaking it.

 

The soldier drags her back on her feet to rest against his chest and the fingers dig into her hair with a sharp, blinding pain.  Rey reaches up to clutch his wrists for balance, trying to seize back some control of her own body.

 

“Please, please,” she chokes out, “let me go.”

 

He sways on his feet, unsteady and shifting to grip her tighter.  He leans down to her cheek. His breath is hot and sour with vodka and smoke, and she closes her eyes in a grimace.  The soldier’s free hand grabs at her chest, clumsy as he scrapes and squeezes through her clothes. 

 

“You’re just a tiny thing, aren’t you?  No more than a scrap. Not a full meal, just a  _ Kroshka _ , a crumb.”  His other hand opens his pants again.  Rey starts to tremble.

 

“But a starving man will take even crumbs, if he’s hungry enough.”   He pulls her tight against him, fingers twisting her hair like fire. Rey starts to cry. 

 

“No, no, _ please _ .”

 

“I don’t understand you,  _ Kroshka.”   _ The man fumbles with her skirts to draw them up, and Rey twists in his arms to fight despite the screaming pain in her head.  “So you might as well shut up.”

 

“Armie!” the other one whispers.

 

“Keep watch, Doph,” the man calls out as Rey squirms and sobs harder.  “You can have what’s left of the crumbs when I’m done.”

 

He throws her to the ground and she tries to crawl away, but he grabs her ankle as it kicks and drags her backwards.  Her chest scrapes on the rocks and her chin hits the ground, hard. He holds her hips down and kneels behind her as he pulls her skirts over her ass and rips at her layers.  

 

She knows what is coming.  This is not the touch of her husband or a man who will cherish and know her.  She is just a tool to him, with no name, only noticed when in use. Rey turns her cheek in the dirt and closes her eyes.  She sends her mind flying to the edge of the galaxy, thinking of infinite edges of edges and new forms of life, of any place but here and any body but hers.

 

The man’s hands on her body suddenly stop moving.  He exhales. Then there’s a strangled cry and a groan that is familiar but so deep that it makes the hairs rise on the back of her neck.

 

Rey twists and looks up with wet eyes to see Ben standing behind the man.  He has one massive hand wrapped around the soldier’s neck as the man scratches at it.

 

Sobbing, she shuffles back on the ground.  Ben squeezes and Rey watches the redhead’s eyes start to swell and bulge at the unrelenting pressure.  The fragile, pale skin above his collar collapses inward and purples.

 

The soldier opens his mouth and the choked cry is muffled when Ben reaches his other hand inside.  In a swift motion, like the magic trick of pulling a tablecloth from under a place setting, Ben rips out the man’s jaw and crushes his throat simultaneously, pulling him apart.  He drops both dead things to the ground and turns to face the other soldier.

 

The small man is shaking uncontrollably.  His eyes are as round as moons and his feet are rooted to the spot like a sapling.  Ben looms over him.

 

Rey comes out of her daze and starts to say, “Ben, no–” but he latches onto the man’s arm and twists until it snaps with a sound so sharp that Rey gags.

 

The animalistic sounds that come from the man’s throat scare his feet into motion.  He clutches his ruined, bloody arm to his chest and runs away screaming to the Russian camp.

 

Rey collapses in a heap in the dirt.  Her tears mix with the dust as she chokes on her sobs with equal parts relief and horror.  Ben’s solid legs stop just before her. She finally lifts her head to stare up into his dark eyes.  The river stones seem warm to her now.

 

She wraps her arms around his legs and presses her wet cheek against him.  Her tears slick his surface. He is unyielding and not soft, but that is also a comfort.  Ben gently lifts her up under her arms and cradles her to his chest. He walks them back to the barn because she cannot see the way, and she closes her eyes and trusts.

 

Rey collapses in the hay by the ladder, like a dirty pile of rags, too exhausted to climb.  Ben stands sentinel next to her as she falls into a fitful sleep. 

 

_____

  
  


She’s awakened by angry voices outside the barn.  It is still night. Some are in Russian. The door opens and she sits up.  The Rabbi walks inside, alone.

 

“Raechel, come here.”  His icy tone leaves no room for refusal.

 

She rises and stands before him with her head bowed.  Her clothes are disheveled and dirtied, just as she has been dirtied. 

 

The Rabbi looks at her, his anger and scowl deepening as he grows deathly quiet.  

 

“So it’s true, then.”

 

“What, Father?”

 

“You left the barn and  _ threw yourself _ at the soldiers!”  He bellows.

 

His words are as violent to her as a strike.  Tears bead in her eyes. “No, Father! I was following Ben, I was trying to–”

 

“Ben?”  The Rabbi looks confused.  He turns to eye him. “The golem?”   
  


“Yes, you named him Ben, Rabbi, remember–”

 

His eyes shrink to slivers.  “You followed me, that night?  Oh, you stupid girl..”

 

Rey begins to cry.  “I’m sorry, Father–”

 

“You foolish child.  And now you’ve  _ whored  _ yourself to our enemies!”  His yell makes her flinch back.

 

“Never, Rabbi!”

 

He spits in his fury.  “Do you know what you’ve done?!  Two dead soldiers! They will destroy the Shtetl, all of us!  They demand justice!”

 

“I’m sorry!”  Rey shrinks back.

 

“I took you in as charity, and you repaid me with sin.”  His long fingers loop around her arm as he yanks her to the door.  “You owe the people, life for a life.”

 

Rey digs in her heels to the earth, resisting him.  “Please! Where are you taking me?”

 

“To the Russians.  Let them use and discard you like trash!”

 

“Please!”  She pulls back, struggling to unhook her arm his grasp, desperate.  The Rabbi is almost to the door when the ground shakes behind him. 

 

He turns over his shoulder.  “Stand back.”

 

Ben doesn’t move.

 

The Rabbi raises his voice.  “I command you. Obey.” 

 

Rey tugs at her arm.  Ben places his hand slowly on the Rabbi’s shoulder.  For the first time in her life, Rey sees a look of doubt wash over the old man’s face.  

 

His voice is petulant and thin as Ben begins to squeeze.  “I made you. You obey me,  _ Ben Sheli _ , not this whore!  Stand back!”

 

Rey finally pries off the Rabbi’s fingers and drops to the ground.  Ben moves forward and pulls his maker to his chest in a sudden embrace, his heavy arms criss-crossing over the Rabbi’s thin back.  

 

She stands slowly and watches as Ben presses him in close, closer still, then  _ impossibly  _ close with a crunch.  The Rabbi’s feet lift off the floor and his legs kick uselessly in reflex as his body jerks in Ben’s arms like a fish caught in a net.  Ben’s fingers dig into the Rabbi with a grunt. Then with a wet ripping sound, Ben’s arms fly open wide, as if releasing a captured bird back to the sky, and the Rabbi falls in two bloody pieces to the barn floor.

 

Rey screams and hides her face in her hands.  She leans into Ben as he approaches and pats her head softly.  He’s surprisingly gentle with her. His clay hands are warm from the Rabbi.  Rey whimpers softly.

 

The barn door opens to voices and light, then yelling as they find what’s left of the Rabbi.  Ben walks forward to block the doorway and Rey hides behind a hay bale. He walks outside. Screaming and gunfire, cut through the night, then there are no more voices.

 

Rey wipes her eyes and goes to the window.

 

It is chaos in the Shtetl.  The soldiers are looting and burning, and the people are fighting back.  Rey smells smoke and sees the first flames lick up the side of a house as more shots ring out.

 

Without the Rabbi, who will protect the people now?  The Shtetl is lost. All is lost. She is alone, a nothing.  Just a crumb,  _ a kroshka _ .

 

Ben returns for her.  He chose her as his people.  No one else will understand them.

 

“We have to leave,” she says, grabbing her coat and blanket.  “We have to go.” She takes his hand and tugs. “Come, Ben, _ please.” _

 

They slip out through the smoke and confusion and back to the darkness.  The night sky is growing fuzzy and grey with the first hint of sunrise on the horizon.  They have to move fast and far, far away before they are spotted. Rey leads him to go south, to where she knows the army has already been.

 

As they walk along the river bank into the woods, Rey turns back once to the Shtetl.  The orange-yellow glow of the sunrise mixes in with the flames of the village as it burns.  For a moment, it is beautiful. The smoke filters up to join with the white clouds, and the moon is hidden once again in the starless night.  

 

She turns away and follows Ben.

 

_____

 

They walk for miles along the river.  When Rey can no longer walk, Ben carries her.

 

She lays her head against his solid chest, his strong arms cradling her delicately.  The rocking of his steps puts her to sleep. Rey dreams of being small and carried by her mother, dreams that can’t possibly be true because she’s never been loved like this before.  Not by anyone but Ben.

 

The sun rises high and it is too hot and bright.  They take shelter in the cool dark of the woods under the canopy of leaves and branches.

 

He sets her down on her feet, but Rey holds onto his arm.

 

“Lay down with me,” she says quietly.  He looks at her and she isn’t afraid anymore, not of him and not when they are alone.  Ben look at home in the woods, surrounded by bark and leaves, moss and rock. Rey smoothes out the plane of his cheek with her fingers.

 

It is cumbersome, but he joins her down on the forest floor.  Ben lays flat on his back like the night he was made. Rey curls up on his side and looks up through the branches at the strips of blue sky and white clouds.  It’s as if she was also made that night in the moonlight, whispered into life with a prayer alongside with him. Half-fashioned before, now made whole together.

 

Ben is warm from the sun and from her body heat.  He doesn’t breathe, nor does his heart beat, but he is solid and steady under her cheek.  He is hers, and that is a comfort. 

 

Rey falls asleep easily with her cheek pressed to his shoulder.

 

____

  
  


The forest is quiet and safe, a place just for them.

 

Ben holds her for as long as she wishes.  Rey goes back to the river when she’s thirsty and cups palms full of water to her lips.  She bathes and bathes Ben. She catches small, wiggling fish and crayfish when she can. She forages for berries and roots, and picks off the new, freshly-green leaves to stuff directly into her mouth to stop the hunger pangs.  She swallows small snails whole. 

 

Rey knows it cannot last with Ben, like this.  He doesn’t need food or shelter like she does. But she doesn’t want to think of that, she just wants to be with him and away from the people who would hurt them.

 

After a couple of days, Rey falls silent.  She doesn’t need to speak, Ben understands her.  She is becoming more and more like him. At night, she curls up on his side and his arms hold her.  She shivers, because he cannot give her heat, but he holds her safe. Rey rubs her face into his chest and doesn’t mind anymore that she is muddy like him.  In the morning, when she looks in the river, it is his eyes that stare back from her face. She is made from the earth like him. They are the same now, made from the same stuff.  

 

She belongs.  Rey isn’t alone anymore.

 

Days pass, how many days?  

 

She is growing weaker and her thin frame is thinner.  She isn’t as strong as Ben, although she wishes she could be.  She wants to be strong like him, too strong to be hurt, too strong to feel weak.  

 

Ben watches her.  He is always following.  He holds her at night. She is skipping between dreams and reality.  They sleep together under the infinite stars in the vast sky. The air is growing cooler.   

 

It rains on them in the forest, slipping between the leaves as they start to turn golden.

 

Rey dreams that Ben’s mud washes away and underneath he is pink and tender, like her.  He is warm. She huddles closer, rubbing against him, sliding their wet bodies together, so happy.

 

One of the readings from the Rabbi echoes from memory, his threadbare voice whispering the Songs of Solomon, a love poem and one used during marriage ceremonies.

 

_ My beloved is gone down to his garden, to the beds of spices, to feed in the gardens and to gather lilies. I am my beloved and my beloved is mine, that feedeth among the lilies. _

 

_ I am my beloved’s, and my beloved is mine. _

 

Ben breathes in her hair and Rey moans.  She slides her small hands all over his large body, carving into the curves of his muscle, writing her name on his skin.  He squeezes her back and she feels seen and known, made real. Rey writhes against Ben, begging for him to put his mark on her body, to claim the weak flesh that aches for him.

 

Rey’s eyes close and she gives in to the pleasure of his touch.  He is hers, and she is his. He is slipping into her, wet and firm, and she cries out and welcomes him in deeper to fill her empty places.

 

Drops of icy rain pelt Rey’s face and she wakes in Ben’s arms, shivering.  She’s naked and covered in sticky mud, her own hands resting between her legs.  Ben groans behind her as she floats back to crude reality under the cool rain. She turns over in his arms and shifts leaves to cover them in a wet blanket.  She must protect Ben. She huddles closer as his arms cage her in.

 

She cannot tell what is waking and what is dreams. 

 

______

  
  


Rey is too weak to stand.  Ben stays with her. He watches her all day as she drifts in and out of consciousness, dark stones fixed on her like stars.  

 

She wakes up in Ben’s arms under her blanket as he cradles her to his chest.  With a grunt, he stands and lifts her. He walks them out of the forest and back to the riverbanks.

 

His footsteps rock her to sleep as if she’s a child.  The first light of sunrise brightens the seam of the horizon and he walks them to the sun.  Rey lifts her head weakly and sees the outskirts of a village up ahead. 

 

Ben stops at a river crossing on the banks.  He kneels down and places her gently to the ground.

 

Rey stares at him and frowns.  “What are you doing?” she whispers.

 

He lifts an arm and gestures to the village.

 

“You know we cannot go there, they won’t understand,” she says tersely.  She is dizzy again. “They’ll hurt you, Ben.”

 

He touches her chest with a finger and lifts his arm back to the village.  He knows he cannot go. His eyes reflect the rising light, a bright sheen of gold reflecting back at her from shiny black.

 

“No,” she says, eyes welling up.  “Not without you, Ben.”

 

He stares down at her as her heart breaks.  She is his people, he is protecting her. He wants her to live. 

 

“I won’t leave you alone,” she whispers, as the first tear falls, cutting a trail through the mud on her cheek. 

 

He cups her jaw in his massive palm and won’t turn away from her.  She understands what he wants. She closes her eyes and leans into his hand as she sobs.  

 

“I cannot leave you alone, I won’t,” she chokes out.  She’ll die here in the mud with him before she’ll leave him.

 

He holds her until she sniffles and calms.  He leans down to her face, and she sees the lips she had made for him.  She can read in his eyes what he wants her to do. 

 

Rey closes her eyes and kisses him.  His lips are soft, and warm, the lips of the dark-haired man of her dreams.  The one who cherishes her. Her beloved.

 

She opens her eyes and Ben works his jaw to open his mouth.  Rey reaches in with trembling fingers and takes back her note, written to the creator.  

 

_ Born in Truth _

_ Benjamin _

_ Adonai, shelter this man in the shadow of your wings. _

_ For he is loved. _

 

She holds it to her chest as she starts to cry again.

 

He reaches into the river and scoops up a handful of water for her.  He points to his forehead. Rey bites her trembling lips and wets her fingers, as she does to bathe him.  Her own tears run salty down her cheeks.

 

“I love you,” she says she wipes away the aleph in the inscription the Rabbi made the day he was born, the words that gave him life.  Now instead of  _ “truth,”  _ the Hebrew word sets him free.

 

Without the aleph the word means  _ “death.” _

 

As her thumb leaves him, Ben tilts over to his side and rolls onto his back on the river bank.  Rey sobs and falls onto his chest. He is lifeless, just a pile of mud. Ben is gone.

 

When she has no more tears to shed, Rey sits up.  She looks at his face. Rey picks out the river stones carefully and holds them in her tight fist with the note.  He is already breaking apart, deep cracks forming as the mud settles back into the earth from where it came, returning home.

 

Rey stands on shaky legs and wraps the blanket around her shoulders.  She slowly walks through the cold river to cross to the village. The water washes her clean as her eyes stay fixed on the village.  

 

She follows the path to her future, the river stones solid in her palm. 

 

 

The End


End file.
